Mind and Love
by Whome the fox goddess
Summary: Aya breaks down and disappears, though Yohji and everyone else thinks diffrent. Yaoi.
1. part 1

Title: Mind and Love.

Warning: R, almost NC-17.

Pairing: Yohji/Aya

Warnings: have yet to see the series but have read plenty about it and read umm--what was it called again--an assassin and a white shaman I think it is called. I may be able to see the series soon if the person I bid at his auction at yahoo! auctions emails me. Also, I am not a good writer.

Email: heffeh3@yahoo.com

Website: http://thefoxgoddess.tripod.com/index.html

Part I

Yohji pushed himself up. His head pounded. The pain wasn't from a hangover. He hadn't been drinking today--or was it yesterday now? It, the pain, was from Aya.

  


When Yohji had awoken that morning, Omi was pounding on his door asking him if knew where Aya was. Yohji shouted that he didn't as he cursed and grabbed his head to let the pounding in there stop.

Going through his memories of the night before, he tried to remember if Aya had been home. The only thing he could remember was the phone ringing before he passed out.

Aya still hadn't come back that night. Omi started talking about looking for him. Omi had about convinced Yohji that they should look or at least contact someone. The door slammed open. 

Aya staggered in. 

"Aya?"

Aya stopped for a second. He raised his bowed head. The light from above briefly reflected off thefaint tear streaks running down from his red rimmed eyes. Grimacing, he lowered his head and hurried upstairs. 

Yohji and Omi stayed quiet as they watched him go up. 

"Maybe... Maybe we should go see if he is ok," Omi said, breaking the ice that the usually ice-like Aya had created.

"I'll go." He stared at the area he had lasted seen Aya. "Stay here." Whatever had affected Aya like that was not something Omi could handle.

The door was closed but not locked when Yohji went upstairs. No light seeped out of the room. If Aya was in there, he was sitting in the dark. 

"Aya," he said. Nothing. He tried louder. Nothing.

Grimacing, he opened the door ready to duck if any katana came for his head. Nothing.

"Aya." The room was black. He could barely see the outline of Aya's bed. Something was on the bed, in the middle by the dark object standing from the truly white but now looking dreary gray walls.

Aya. Aya's red hair reflected slightly where the light touched it.

"Aya, what's wrong?" He brushed his hand against Aya's turned back, just to make sure that Aya was truly there.

"Don't touch me," he screamed and jumped away. His voice was not angry. It cried out with loss and insanity. 

"Aya--" 

Aya turned around, backing into the headboard of the bed. Yohji tried to reach for him.

Aya's violent, violet eyes were demonic in the dull light as they stared at Yohji with no hate for the playboy, only hate for himself.

"You can't touch me." Aya sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry."

Aya rammed into Yohji. 

"I, I lo--"

Yohji blanked out as he hit the wall hard.

  


The ache wasn't so bad. The ache didn't matter to him. It wasn't bad.

As he lay in bed waiting for the ache to recede, those haunted eyes came back to him. They were not Aya's eyes. Aya was a cold emotionless bastard, not that shattered thing that was in Aya's room yesterday. Aya couldn't be so sad. Because that would mean that Aya had emotions, and emotions meant that there was a chance for Yohji.

But Yohji didn't want that chance. He was a straight, woman lover. He did not need to have dreams about a cold teammate of his. He was a womanizer for god's sake. He didn't like man. Aya didn't have feeling for him anyway.

Yohji sat up. The sheets pilled by his waist. He was in his bed? 

No, he wasn't.

The plain walls of Aya's room jailed him in. Bolting, he scurried out of bed and rushed to his own room.

He leaned against the door, knowing that he was probably blushing. He had been in Aya's bed. He had slept in there. 

Why had he been in Aya's bed? Why had Aya put him there?

Oh god, he had been in Aya's bed.

He was getting a hard on just thinking of it.

"I am not gay," He repeated to himself as he flopped onto his bed. "I like woman with tits to squeeze and pussies to enjoy. I'm straight."

Closing his eyes, he reached down and grasped his erect shaft. He imagined pumping that shaft into the warm pussy of a female with large breasts and an excellent, mouth. He imagined filling that woman's pussy with his seed. He imagined the grabbing that woman's red hair as she licked his balls. Red hair? When had his fantasy girl been a redhead?

He looked down.

He screamed as he orgasm into the nice, hot mouth of Aya.

"I'm sorry," Aya said as he disappeared.

Oh god, he had just... Shaking his head to banish the thought, he buried his hand seed covered hand in his shirt as he hurried to the bathroom.

He showered under the hottest water the tap would allow to banish what he had done.

He should be trying to find out what was wrong with Aya, not jerk of to him. He should not even think Aya attractive. He was straight as a pencil.

'Ah, but some pencils are not straight, kitten.'

"Who, what, huh?" He looked around. But of course, no one was hiding in the medicine cabinet. He left the bathroom as soon as he could.

"Yohji, do you know where Aya is?"

"No." He grabbed an apple and the paper as he sat down.

"He left soon after you went up to him. He looked weird. Do you know what is up?"

"Nope." Flipping through the paper, he landed on the locals. There had been a car crash earlier that day. A trunk had slammed into the front of a car last night. The driver of the trunk had lived, the driver of the car hadn't. Not really interested, he continued on reading.

"...On a side note, the driver of the car's sister died almost twenty four hours before. The poor girl, Aya Fujimiya, had..."

Yohji dropped the paper.

He screamed.

TBC

  
  


Umm... I bet that was horribly OOC. 

  



	2. part 2

Part 2

"We are gathered here today to mourn..."

Yohji sighed as he passed the large group gathered around the funeral of one old lady. The casket was opened for all to see. 

Aya's hadn't been. The body, according to the funeral people, was too badly mangled to display.

Yohji tightened his hand around the red roses he picked for that day. 

"Hi, are you here for grannie's death?" A little girl screwed her facing at him, questioning him.

"No, I'm here to visit a friend, lovely."

"That person must be really important to you. I've never received roses before. They're red roses, like the ones the fairytale princesses receive. Are you going to meet your lover? Is she pretty?"

"No, not a she and defiantly not my lover." Yohji tried to burry his blush. He hadn't realized what he picked. He knew they were red roses, but forgot the part that lovers always gave them to each other. He had been thinking only about how they matched Aya's hair and life so well. So quite alone, dying without substance, and living on in memory. Just like Aya. 

"Then why are you giving him roses? Never mind, I got to go say goodbye to grannie. I don't see why I have to; grannie will be back, won't she?"

"Yes, of course. Bye, darling."

Yohji waved goodbye to the small child as he walked deeper into the cemetery. Soon, he came to the end of his travel. The baby apple tree he came to tried to shade the two graves crowed next to it.

"Aya," he said, kneeling against the graved marked 'Ran Fujimiya'. "How are you doing? Still as talkative as usual, I see. And as cold as always." Yohji brushed the cold marble as he put the flowers in the pot. " I forgot to get your sister some flowers, but don't worry; her friends from school always get her many flowers from the shop. She's being taken care of, even now." 

"It's been two months to this date since that night when you left. I wish I could have stopped. I wish I could see you again. I miss you' who'd of thought that? Why did you do that, that night. I could have helped you; Don't you understand? I've already been through loss. Asuka... Aya.... You both start and end with an 'A'--the beginning of the alphabet--but you both left me in the end, too early. Why? Why did you leave?"

Yohji leaned against the gravestone. Tears he thought he already shed the past two months sought that cold stone.

The tears eventually dried up. The cries of "Why" eventually trailed off. Yohji eventually got up from his cramped position.

He trailed away from the grave, his eyes on the ground, wondering if his eyes were as red as Aya's had been right before Aya left him. Probably.

He wondered around that day, through streets hardly used in the day but popular after the night. He didn't drink anymore. If hadn't been drunk that night the phone rang late, he might have picked it up or, at least, saw Aya go. He might have been able to save Aya. But he hadn't. He had been drunk. So now Aya was died because he had been drunk.

He never drank anymore, smoked: yes, drunk: no. He hardly slept around anymore. He just didn't feel like it. They just left after the night anyway. Everyone left. He might have not minded before but now he couldn't; he just couldn't.

"Hey, boy."

Yohji looked up. Two man took the seats to his right at the bar. One had a scar on his forehead. The other had a puffy beard that looked up. Ignoring them, he took a sip of his root beer.

"So Rayne, where ya been?" said scar-face.

"Here and there, mostly there."

"Where's there? It's taking up all ya's time."

"Oh, I found this boy with a nice, tight ass that I can fuck anytime I want. Though he isn't very cheap. I hafta supply him with crack or cocaine whenever I 'have any of that stuff,' aka whenever I think he won't die on me if I give it to him."

Sick bastards. Poor boy.

"Rayne, Rayne, whenever will you learn the delights of woman?"

"Never, men are just to nice. Though you wouldn't think this great ass is a woman by his name. He goes by a girls name."

Aya...? No. Aya wouldn't.

The scar man-chuckled and shook his head. "What's this he calling himself a she-name called?"

"Oh, you mean tight ass. No last name, Aya."

Yohji almost punched the man.

  



	3. part 3

Part 3

  


The porch light barely attracted the moths, let alone lighten the porch and the person on the porch. Yohji knew who was on the porch--Rayne. Rayne locked his crumbling house and headed on his way to wherever sick place people like him go.

Satisfied that the bastard was gone, Yohji hurried away from the giant and stinky trashcan he had been hiding next to. The door opened easily to him and a lock pick he had 'picked up' sometime ago. Braising himself, he opened the door.

The house was only one rectangular room. A kitchen area that still retained some of its original whatever colour tile--Yohji had no idea--stood to his left. A small nock in the wall showed the edge of a dirty toilet. An old television set sat balanced on a VCR and various other things from the past. A sofa stood facing the television. Yohji went to the sofa. There was no bed.

"Aya."

Aya didn't stir from his place on the sofa.

He almost looked like he was sleeping. He wasn't. Yohji recognized the look of one passed out. He also recognized the track marks running on Aya's arm.

At least someone had been smart enough to leave Aya belly down in case he puked. Or maybe it hadn't been for that. Aya was naked. A small trail of blood left a trail from his ass.

Taking off hiss coat, he rolled Aya into it and picked him up like a mother with her baby. Aya was light, lighter then any health person should be. Yohji could have counted his ribs.

In a fast rush, Yohji left the house. If that guy was guilty of all of this, he would die. If he wasn't totally, he would also die, but not now.

Yohji's car made it in record time home.

Aya was soon tucked in to Yohji's bed.

Yohji settled down for the wait with a coffee to keep him up. Aya would not wake up alone in a place he might not recognize.

  


Yohji felt his eye's dropping. He used the sun's morning rays to try to keep his mind occupied with thoughts of how beautiful they were. It didn't work. His thoughts kept on going to the still sleeping and beautiful Aya in the bed. He had gotten Aya there at twelve. It was six something now. He hadn't slept the whole time, nor gone down to get more coffee; Aya might awaken.

His eye's drifted closed.

"Yo..."

Yohji snapped his eyes open and was at Aya's side in a leap. Aya's eyes were opened but fogged. Gradually they opened up. He pushed himself up slightly from Yohji's bed. 

"What am I doing here? What am I doing in your bed, Yohji? What? Do you want to rape me or something? Do you?" His voice was not cold, not Aya. It was helpless only. 

Yohji grabbed Aya's hand. "Aya--"

"Don't touch me," Aya screamed. His eyes were wild as he looked for a place to escape to. He tried pulling away from Yohji. He was too weak.

"I'm trying to help you, Aya."

"So, Rayne said he wanted to help me forget about my worries. He raped me as he made me addicted to that stuff." 

Rayne would die. 

"Don't help me. Don't touch me." Yohji held on. He would not let go ever again and let Aya do this. "Don't touch me. My sister and I used to hold hands at outings. She's dead because of me. Everyone who touches me as a friend dies. Don't touch me. I left so you wouldn't have to and die. Get away. Oh, please, don't."

Aya fell quite. He was crying.

He stiffened. He jerked. His body withered around on the bed. 

"Omi, Ken, call 911," Yohji ducked away. He didn't know anything to do when someone was having a seizure except to call 911.

The ambulance arrived ten minutes later.

  


"Kudou? Yohji Koduo?" He looked up. A young nurse held a click board and was searching the crowd.

"Present," he said raising his hand like a schoolboy.

The nurse motioned for him to come with her. He followed like an obedient schoolboy.

"Mr. Kaduo, you came in with Aya Fujimiya?" A female doctor after the cute nurse left.

Yohji nodded. He was a good schoolboy and would not have to be restrained from trying to enter the ER again. 

The woman nodded. "You may see him if you want on one condition--You may not excite Aya. Got it?" 

"Yes, ma'am."

"Nor tell him about the recent discoveries."

"Yes, ma'am." Finally, the woman nodded and let him through.

The room was silent except for the annoying heart monitor's beep. White walls crowded him in. Always white walls for Aya, his room, his casket, his sister's hospital room, his sister's casket. Aya looked so small, fragile even, in this white room, with the IV line coming from his hand.

Yohji sat in the white chair next to Aya. "Hey, Aya, How you're doing? Um, you look great..." 

Aya just lay there.

"As silent as always, I see. You know you are going to have to go to a drug treatment center. I'm coming with you so I can get off the so deadly drug tobacco. I'm not leaving you alone. I want die."

Yohji lied his hand on Aya's arm. 

Aya opened his eyes. "You're not going to die?"

"Yes, Aya, I won't die in a long time."

Aya nodded and closed his eyes again. A small and faint smile favored his lips.

Yohji tightened his grip on Aya. They would get through this together.

  


Maybe TBC.


End file.
